Lauren Everdell
Bio
Writer. Chronic sickie. Part-time gorgon. Probably thinking about cyborgs right now.
Website: https://ubiquitousbooks.com
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/scrawlauren/
Twitter: @scrawlauren
Achievements (1)
Stories (24/0)
The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue
The raw power of longing sweeps you into this story. A cursed love triangle, and a dauntless heroine keep you there. It's a gorgeous take on the old caution to be careful what you wish for, as rich as Addie’s favourite black coffee. An enchanted midnight whisper of a novel.
By Lauren Everdell4 months ago in Critique
- Second Place in Mythmaker Challenge
Red Silk Ribbon
The morning the girl became invisible, her mother tied a red silk ribbon to her wrist. The girl said she was only invisible, not lighter than air like a balloon, she wouldn’t drift away. Her mother tied the other end to her own wrist, saying she wasn’t so sure.
By Lauren Everdell4 months ago in Poets
- Top Story - January 2023
RedTop Story - January 2023
Fur on the inch of old, cold coffee is grey. The day breaking in at Bly’s window is grey, and a sleepless night hangs grey from her eyes. Do something. Her thoughts are grey. Clean. Start with the vacuum, but the bag is full. So empty it. Bins are full. Empty them. Can’t think where the fresh liners are. Shower. Water runs cold, only a glassy shave of soap left. Scum in the dish is grey. Tiles are grey, cold and grey.
By Lauren Everdell10 months ago in Fiction
Dear Heart
I’m planting tulips when I hear them. Voices, drifting smoke-like through the trees. Standing, I listen, staring at the bare earth. Thinking of the tulips that, come spring, will press through the dirt to spread white petals for the sun. They’re Swan Wings. Agatha’s favourite.
By Lauren Everdellabout a year ago in Horror
- Top Story - September 2022
TimberlineTop Story - September 2022
The silence is absolute, as if time never began here and never will. How can I describe it? As if a wall of glass has been placed by the great hand of a God in the midst of the forest, and no living thing may pass. The trees crowd against their limit, aching to reach into the barren land, and their longing embitters them. They grow twisted, their bark black and limbs contorted.
By Lauren Everdellabout a year ago in Horror
Clever Little Farm Girl
Thyme winged her oars through the air, guiding her boat toward the empty suspirating pen. She stowed the oars and tied off, standing with practiced balance. Studying the blue field of sky, she tried to shake off her unease, to focus on the dawn-stained clouds.
By Lauren Everdellabout a year ago in Fiction
